


The Battle of Lundern and New Vecona

by tlarn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Realmheart, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tlarn/pseuds/tlarn
Summary: A soldier's final moments.
Kudos: 1





	The Battle of Lundern and New Vecona

The battlefield was a short walk from my favorite hiding place as a child, a nook in the woods by the farms. I’d sneak off there when I wanted to dodge my chores. I liked to think it was a magic place, that if I waited and believed hard enough, I could see fairies. I’d bring gifts for them, to try and make them come out. Fruits and vegetables picked from the harvest. Bread and other baked goodies made from the harvest. When a local aristocrat happened to lose some of their jewels, the fairies were given those.

I never got to see the fairies, but the gifts always disappeared. I like to think they appreciated them.

To my sides were people I grew up with. The man on my left was a rascal as a child, but became an upstanding man with a hard-working partner. The man to my right worked the bakery all his life, and his family would give away anything that was about to go stale. 

They both wore the most basic protection. Chainmail that’s older than all of us combined. Helmets that must have been buckets before. Farming tools with the business end swapped out for a spear tip. The one in my hands used to be a hoe. I remember using it to till the soil we fought on. It took weeks to prepare it all, and months before we could enjoy the grain. All of that work was gone in a day.

The former rascal fell over once we met our enemy, our neighbors a few days’ ride eastward. There was a farm-tool-turned-spear in his chest. The old chainmail came apart easily. Above him was a trader who’d visit and exchange his meats for salt. His once kindly eyes were full of adrenaline and fear.

The baker’s spear found itself in the trader’s neck, and he fell down. The baker fell down too. I didn’t see what made him fall.

In front of me was a man I didn’t recognize. He had armor that was worth more coin than my whole family could make in our lifetime. In his hands was a sword. I saw it for just a moment. It was in my stomach the next time I saw it. I fell down, atop the trader and the former rascal. The ground my hand touched had become icy-cold.

I thought battle would be different. They told us it was for honor and glory. It was for protecting our home, our family. It was for spreading the word of our god, and destroying the teachings of theirs. It was a clash of ideologies, and ours was superior.

I’d only learn in the hereafter that it was a squabble between two local lords, distantly related to the king of Ralbarna, about where the boundary of one’s land ended and the other began.

I couldn’t move. Everyone else had moved on from this stretch of the battlefield. All around me were fallen men and women, who were all looking forward to the festival next month. People who passed by paid me no mind. I must have looked dead. I could hear screams from the village. I don’t know how long I’ve been laying here.

Someone left the farm-side forest, around where the magical nook was. A little girl, with dark skin and red hair. I knew her; she was an orphan who lived with an old nun. She was holding the loaf of bread I offered to the fairies for good fortune today.

She stared at the ruined farmland, then turned back and ran, disappeared into the trees. 

Run far away, fairy. 

There won’t be any more bread.


End file.
